


Serendipity

by Tagpye



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, MOP Based, Standard Wranduin Bickering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tagpye/pseuds/Tagpye
Summary: Friendships don't work out too well when the person you're trying to befriend is a black dragon and the feelings you have aren't exactly friendly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *bangs on pans* BLIZZARD GIVE ME WRATHION/ANDUIN INTERACTIONS OR I RIOT
> 
> Likely a rather short series of soppy developing romantic moments because I have an aching for slow burn wranduin. I can't promise this won't turn into smut because honestly I really don't trust myself :/

“I don’t know why you insisted on me accompanying you.”

Anduin scoffed, barely paying his dragon acquaintance much of a passing glance as he sluggishly pulled himself forward, his cane scuffling against the dirt. Surely one look at his rather debilitated state should have answered that question, but maybe Wrathion liked to complain, or perhaps he was truly that dense. 

“I wanted a walk, I need someone with me, I didn’t want my guards breathing down my neck, I thought you wouldn’t mind.” He stated plainly, grimacing slightly at the rising incline. His ailments tended to vary day to day, and right now was one of those days where his entire body seemed to cramp and groan. Alas the Tavern had grown too smoky and raucous, the walls too confining, and despite the ever brimming ache in his bones he felt the rather burning need to simply escape out into the fresh air.

Mason’s Folly made for an attractive sight, he thought Wrathion would be more accommodating given his endearments towards the place. 

Wrathion replied, “I suppose I don’t. I think I’m rather more curious why you would find my company so satisfying.” 

This time Anduin did muster the effort to catch his gaze, “What on Azeroth does that mean? If I didn’t find your company in some way enjoyable then I wouldn’t be hanging around you so much.”

The wind whistled by his ears, the entire canyon seeming to sing with a deep rush of sound. Wrathion’s voice seemed to blend in with the melody as if humming along to the tune, “Why do you find my company enjoyable?” Genuine intrigue seemed to simmer in his words with a notable soft lilt.

He blinked at him, noting his garments and trinkets shivering and dancing in the wind and the curious and expectant expression sat atop his face. Somehow the sight intrigued him, something he wanted to commit to memory though he couldn’t quite place why.

“Well that’s…”, He knew there were lots of reasons, most obviously he found Wrathion to be a fascinating creature but lurking under that explanation lay a million others. It almost surprised him, thinking about it, that he had noted so many tiny little things about Wrathion that he found he had enjoyed. “You’re interesting, and you’re fun to talk to. I um... “

Somehow talking further seemed rather embarrassing. 

“I like you because you’re you I guess.”

He wasn’t sure why saying that made his face heat up, an odd thudding inside his chest a sensation so strong it almost blotted out the stinging creak in his joints. Without paying much heed to Wrathion’s reaction he opted to dedicate more effort into heaving up the hill, but even with the cool breeze of air caressing his face he still felt his cheeks to be lightly smattered with rouge. Was expressing endearments towards someone else such an embarrassing thing for him? He didn’t think that to be the case at all. 

However while Anduin was occupied by his thoughts, he began to notice that Wrathion was equally as silent, the soft padding of his shoes the only indicator that he was even still around, which peculiarly made the sensation even worse. An airy comment or snide remark would have eased him, he had brought Wrathion along for his rather engaging yet irksome commentary after all. 

The stone fencing of the hilltop arose from the slope and Anduin felt some relief at the respite. The last few steps of the hill were proving rather difficult and the fatigue was weighing at his feet, his hurry to walk ahead of Wrathion perhaps being a factor. His hands found purchase on the smooth cold granite and he slumped with a shaky sigh, depositing his weight onto the fence. With a breathy huff he glanced over to see Wrathion stood beside him, hands placed atop the stone and eyes thoughtfully skimming over the emerald peaks. 

“What is it?” Anduin enquired as the dragon offered him no conversation. 

Wrathion merely raised an eyebrow, gave him a sheepish look, before opening his mouth then shutting it, and then opening it again. With his shifty behaviour he seemed to settle on looking back out onto the precipice. 

“Even before I was born, every single person involved with my life had the intention of using me or harming me. I understand you’ve been through similar situations in yours.” 

He seemed to nibble ever so slightly at his lip, the ever so slight glimpse of fangs peeking from his mouth. The tiny little motion caught Anduin’s attention for far too long than he could justify.

“I’ve never really had a… companion before. I mean, someone whose feelings towards me are completely benevolent. Even my Blacktalons are loyal to me only through coin or fanaticism. You’re an unusual person in that regard.” He spoke softly.

Anduin shifted, trying to find a more comfortable angle. “You think I’m unusual just because I want to befriend you? That sort of makes me feel a little sad for the life you’ve lived…” He had heard the tale of the Black Prince long before he had met the dragon, it seemed neatly poetic, interesting and endearing, like a fable from a dusky children’s book. He had barely contemplated that Wrathion’s escapades were lonely and bleak. His own family had craved his demise, he couldn’t possibly imagine what that would feel like. His father was all he had.

“Oh? Don’t feel pity for me young prince! I’m doing quite well despite the meddling of my dragon kin.” The dragon prince chirped at the rather deflated look that had enveloped Anduin’s face, “I would say I’m in a rather comfortable position right now, would you not?”

Anduin scoffed, “I don’t think running a crime syndicate from a pokey little tavern in the middle of nowhere is exactly admirable.”

“A crime syndicate? Is that what you think of me? I am very offended.”

Genuine laughter left Anduin despite his incredulous tone, “Are you honestly trying to tell me you don’t employ thieves and criminals? And that your exploits are entirely benevolent and within the law?”

Wrathion smirked, “All for the good of Azeroth young prince, all for the good of Azeroth. I’m sure when you grow you’ll learn the need for unconventional methods.”

“When I grow? And you’re all grown up are you? Mr. two-year-old-dragon-whelp is full of worldly wisdom is he?”

Of which his comment Wrathion didn’t deem worthy to respond to. Instead Anduin was greeted with conversation merely from the wind, whistling around the cliff as if it were mumbling amongst itself. He often felt himself torn between remaining dignified and detached from Wrathion, to desiring a peculiar kind of closeness despite the fact that was a rather terrible awful idea and his interactions with the dragon should only be trivial and customary at best. He was a suspicious little creature who couldn’t be trusted, and yet Anduin was stood there beside him, finding interest in the details of the profile of his face.

Wrathion suddenly broke their silence rather abruptly, “Although I do find you far too idealistic, too trusting, and too gentle, there is a certain endearment I feel towards you. Your personal qualities are refreshing if not naive.” 

“Is that… was that a compliment?”

Then Wrathion smiled at him, all warm and soft and humble. He caught the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the smooth arc of his lips, the delicate patches of scales on his cheeks that he only ever noticed when the tavern was dark and the candles glowed and bathed his skin in amber. The red haze that seemed to smoke from his eyes swept up and dissipated into the wind. 

Wrathion was very unnatural looking, definitely and truly not human in the slightest, and every little attribute about him only served to remind him that beneath Wrathion’s skin lay scales and fangs. But that didn’t seem to bother him, not in the slightest, curiously it seemed to pull him in, seemed to provoke such a deep powerful fascination, and before he could catch himself he found himself staring, heart beating so wildly and chest thrumming with such pressure and heat that it almost frightened him. 

Those tiny glimpses of sensation had surfaced from the very first moment Wrathion had wandered over to his table and opened his mouth. It was the drive that had him seeking the dragon’s company despite the obvious danger in such a friendship, something that had him laughing and talking into the early hours of night whilst they played and played and never really managed the effort to finish up their game. 

He felt a little terrified, and shocked, at how much just looking at Wrathion smile at him left him feeling like his heart could explode. The name of such a sensation dawned on him at that moment and mingled with dread in the pit of his stomach. 

He felt if he acknowledged the name, it would sentence him to a terrible fate. 

“Wrathion…” It was meant to leave him sounding composed, but it came out whispy and lost. Just saying his name pulled him deeper into that trance.

Sat on the backdrop of endless blue skies and pearl white clouds, Wrathion blinked back at him, “Yes?”

He let out a breath, eyes screwed shut. The brief intermittence was enough for him to regain his sense, he wasn’t even certain where that sentence could have gone. He felt as if he had a million disorganised thoughts and feelings hanging off his tongue and he fingered at the rough texture of the stone fence to ground him in the moment.

“Nothing. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that.”

Wrathion seemed surprised by his response, quite noticeably slipping into thought if the little furrow in his brow was anything to go by. He couldn’t help but to notice such a gesture, it felt as if he had been consumed by a desire to map everything about Wrathion as if he were compiling a book. He let out a soft sigh when the dragon glanced back at him.

“I think it’s because I rather like you.” The words made Anduin’s heart stop, moreso when Wrathion gave him another one of those smiles, “I like you because you’re you, I guess.”

Anduin hadn’t even acknowledged the name of the intense, dizzying, ecstatic feeling pulsing in his veins, but he truly felt himself cursed in that very moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I just... love wranduin so much?? Whoa........
> 
> Anyway this chapter ended up being far longer than I intended. I tried to write Jihui but I think I overcomplicated it, we play a lot of board games in our household so I couldn't help myself. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I also realised some elements of this chapter were very similar to Kirishtu's fic 'The Art' on FF.net, this was completely by coincidence but I can't rule out the possibility of cryptomnesia so I felt it right to credit! (also they do the good wranduins so check em out)

Wrathion’s voice rung out loud and clear through the merry babble of the tavern, 

“A drink! To my successes!” 

The amber liquid slopped against the sides of the tankard as the dragon smacked it back down onto the table after taking a long excessive swig. Anduin could only eye his own drink suspiciously, peering at the ale as if it were a potent poison. 

“I feel weary to drink when I have no idea what ‘success’ we’re celebrating.” He said blithely as Wrathion gave him a hearty smile. 

“Maybe I would feel more inclined to share my exploits with you if I didn’t have to worry about being chastised like a mother would do to a babe.” Wrathion hid his face behind his tankard in a rather nonchalant gesture, but Anduin could tell clear as day he was masking a wry smirk, “Or, what do they say? Pester me like a nagging wife.”

Anduin’s expression remained impassive, “Was that intended to be a joke? There’s no laughing matter about meddling with things you don’t quite understand.”

“Mmm. Who’s to say I don’t understand? I know exactly what I’m getting into.”

The prince’s fingertips gingerly touched the handle of his own drink, absentmindedly pressing against the texture of the polished wood. “That brashness of yours is only going to get you into some serious trouble. You’re so cocky and have your head held up so high that you’re going to be caught completely unawares when your plans slip out from under you.” 

“Ah yes,” Wrathion drawled, “The person sat in front of me with a body full of wounds preaches to me about brashness.”

While Wrathion was obviously attempting a rise out of Anduin, he tempered down any inklings of anger with the practiced calm of years of prayer and meditation.

“I always aim to do what is right.” He responded quietly.

“As do I.” Countered Wrathion.

While he was tempted to give the dragon prince another snappy retort, he instead thought it to be a far less stressful move to instead pick up his tankard and take several gulps. 

“I would suggest that we play a board game to ease the mood but I’m not even sure if that would lessen any antagonism.” Anduin murmured into his drink.

“You could celebrate my successes a little more,” Wrathion motioned over to Tong to fill up the table, “Or you could just leave.” 

“I find it very telling that you have to ply your acquaintances with drink in order for them to be able to tolerate your presence.” He let the faintest of smiles dust his lips.

“Indeed, it would appear I do have a certain effect on people.” Wrathion replied good-naturedly.

Anduin finished his drink, then continued on another, and eventually did pull out Jihui whilst starting on his third ale. It hadn’t been his intention to get rather merry off the beverages, instead it had been his intention to spend the evening chatting with the black dragon he unwittingly found himself more and more drawn to, however it would seem today it was Wrathion’s intention to be as infuriating as possible.

Wrathion as his usual self was tolerable, Wrathion with a glint in his eye and fool’s gold spitting off his tongue was not. One could only stomach so many lectures about the greater good and the need for strength and power to overcome the weak before your eyes rolled so far back into your skull they could no longer be retrieved. Not that Anduin did not appreciate the experience of witnessing other viewpoints and taking on new perspectives, that was largely the reason he found Wrathion so endearing, it was more so the dragon’s complete inability to take on any opinion other than his own. Try as he might, little ever seemed to get through to him, especially on days like these where it was as if chatting with a brick wall.

But alcohol made that easier, and so did board games.

“Why would you even make that move? You’ve completely blocked off my pieces.” Anduin huffed as his entire game plan went out the window.

“It was the optimal route for me.” Wrathion said, red eyes flickering over the board like a hunting serpent. “You’ll only hinder my progress.”

Anduin had to drain his tankard and place it on the edge of the table with a listless drop of his arm before he could even be bothered to reassess his next play. If Wrathion had permitted him access to the east side of the board he could have built resources to help them bring the game to a close, instead he had potentially thrown the entire game to make a high risk move. 

Even in the midst of absolute frustration, distanced slightly from the table in a not-so-subtle act of separating himself from this absolute mess of a game, he still felt himself to be so overwhelmingly curious about the dragon. His eyes carefully watched the slender movements of Wrathion’s fingers against the pieces, taking advantage of his preoccupation to stare and stare without notice. 

It was an aching paradox of feelings, the frustration in his stomach seemed to simmer and blend with whatever delirious joy lurched when he caught glimpse of Wrathion’s face. Whatever emotion this resulted in, he wasn’t certain either, but he felt dwelling on it would result in something dangerous. 

And then, disaster. With a roll of the dice, a jade tinted card was turned over and several pieces were removed from play, cutting down not only both of their forces but the pieces needed for success. 

“Well done.” Anduin jeered. 

“No no,” Wrathion tapped a clawed finger on his chin, “This is fine, as long as I can draw the Golden Lotus we essentially win, and I have a very high probability of doing so.”

The fair haired prince glanced over the board state, “You seem to be ignoring the fact that if we run into any Warlord pieces, they deduct from our total, and I don’t have the means to clear them off anymore since you prevented me access to resources that would have bolstered my hand.”

Wrathion clinked one of the pieces onto the table with a dull _thock-thock-thock_ , the distracted haze in his eyes providing more than an indication that the dragon was barely paying attention to him. “It’s fine, more than likely you’ll be wiped out, but I’ll have the means to finish the game.”

“Can we just have one game where you don’t use me as a meat shield?! Anduin groaned, “You’re not going to win regardless, you’ve sacrificed far too much on the board to be able to close off the game.”

“I have not.”

“You have!”

Anduin peered listlessly into his empty tankard when Wrathion ignored him to continue focusing on the game, ordering another round was probably a bad idea. He had little faith in what his more inebriated self would get up to. 

“I can bet you this game is lost.” He mumbled the longer the dragon stared into the board map. 

At this offhand comment Wrathion perked up, “Oh? What’s the bet?”

He squinted at the dragon with intoxicated disregard, “What? I don’t know, whatever you want, I don’t think it really matters.” 

“Whatever I want…” Wrathion played over his words with growing interest, a wondrous tone inkling in his voice, “Truly, whatever I want?”

When the Black Prince flicked his eyes up to meet his own he found the intense sharp gaze to be somewhat overwhelming, his heart began to jitter and stall just by the very grace of Wrathion staring at him. He felt if he accepted he would be subject to a most devilish pact, subjecting himself to the ever curious whims of the dragon prince sat before him, strangely, the thought of granting Wrathion will over him was oddly exciting. 

Re-examining the board state, he could see Wrathion’s intended line of play, realistically the odds were 50/50 and it would seem the dragon was relying on his hedonistic luck to ensure success, that or he was so self-confident in his abilities he simply overlooked the many hazards. 

As the room buzzed with a silky warm haze, he relaxed into his chair and gave Wrathion a playful look. “And I get whatever I want, right?”

“In the unlikely possibility you are right, yes.” 

“Fine then, ok. Keep playing, I’ll sit back while you take your final turn.”

Wrathion’s expression was smug as he settled his pieces and flipped the black stack of cards sat beside the board,

“Acceptable.” He muttered, placing the drawn Snow Lily on his side of the table, “And now I just-”

The dice rolled, and Anduin could see very clearly the remarkable physical transformation on Wrathion’s face from cockiness to aghast disappointment. 

He could barely contain his mirth as he removed several of Wrathion’s pieces from the board, replacing them with Warlord pieces, which essentially blocked off any further moves from Wrathion and subsequently ended the game.

Anduin clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Well then.”

The dragon’s eyes had almost narrowed to slits, and he swore he could see the faintest whorls of smoke seeping from his pinched lips. Given Wrathion’s aggravating nature this entire evening it was a rather enjoyable feeling to see the wind punched out of his sails. Against his better judgement he asked Tong for a refill of his drink.

“It would seem I had made the incorrect play.” Wrathion said airily, “No matter, what is your wish then young prince?”

Funnily enough, Anduin hadn’t considered what he would even ask for in the likely event he would win. ‘Anything he wanted’ was a large scope, and niggling sensations burning in his gut somehow fed up into his brain, whispering all kinds of shameful and tempting things. When the refilled tankard was placed back into his hands he quickly drained the liquid through his lips, probably a bad decision, but he felt he was already in a rather bad situation without the aid of alcohol. 

“I um…” He felt there were so many sentences willing to jump off his tongue that he didn’t trust himself to speak further without something unwittingly slipping out. “I don’t… I don’t really know what I want.”

“After all your gloating?” Wrathion jeered. “How disappointing. Ah well, at least I know you didn’t have anything nefarious planned for me from the beginning.”

“What were you going to ask me to do then?” Anduin said, beginning to gather up the pieces from the board, whether to play again or to clear away, he wasn’t quite sure. It depended on how the night would turn out. 

Wrathion smiled wickedly, head cocked and resting against his palm. The sight made his insides jump for a reason he couldn’t quite explain. 

“That’s a secret.”

He rubbed at his lower lip in a rather listless gesture as the dragon continued to peer at him, red irises tracking the subtle movements of his fingertip. There wasn’t anything he specifically wanted from the Black Prince, he wasn’t the kind for humiliation nor to pry secrets, there was nothing material he wanted from him nor was there any favour to be asked. He caught Wrathion’s gaze and stared without abandon, drinking in the sight of the dragon with his excessively showy garments, twinkling red gems, and that rather oversized scarf adorning his head, soft flowy cotton draping by his face.

It occurred to him in that instant he hadn’t seen him without the headpiece, and the moment that thought fleeted through him he couldn’t stop the words from escaping, 

“I wanna see you without the hat.”

This apparently was not an answer Wrathion was expecting of him, he was greeted with a bemused look, nose scrunched with confusion. “What?”

“The hat.” Everything tumbled out without any prior processing, raw thought spoke through his lips, “Take it off.”

Wrathion’s mouth opened but no sound came from it, he seemed almost unsure what he was supposed to be doing, hands raised ever so slightly towards the headpiece in a hesitant and enquiring, ‘are you sure this is what you want?’ sort of gesture. The slowness of which he grasped at the fabric seemed to suggest he was perhaps anticipating some kind of joke or a trick, but when the focused expression on Anduin’s face did not falter he gently lifted the garment from atop his head.

Anduin could very acutely feel the heart that beat within his chest suddenly thump and thump to the point it pulsed in his neck and he was frightened the sound would be somehow audible. An involuntary hot flush swept over him when the peculiar sight of a turban-less Wrathion, black curly hair and thick dark horns, revealed itself to him. His face almost felt paralyzed with the sensation.

There was something remarkably intimate about it, how many other people had seen him like this? Was he the first? He could only blink in wonder. It in some way toppled the rather regal and prim personage Wrathion tried to adopt, he looked more real, like someone he could reach out and touch with his hands.

He really didn’t mean to actually reach out and touch with his hands but before he knew it he was scooting over to him, fingertips poised dangerously close to the dragon’s head and mouth slightly agape. 

“How much have you drunk today young prince?” Wrathion muttered, that suspicion clearly still evident in his voice. Anduin was close enough to feel his breath brush by his lips.

“Some amount. Enough to cope with your presence.” The prince responded half-heartedly, far too preoccupied with the black locks circling around the dragon’s face. Even if they were at this point beginning to become too blurry to properly work out. “Hey, I wanna add to my wish, can I touch your horns?”

Wrathion’s face contorted to that of near offense, and he swore he could see Wrathion’s bodyguards, stationed quietly at the very edge of the upper balcony where he and the dragon had total privacy, share some sort of look he couldn’t quite work out. Probably not a good look, probably a look that meant he should be more mindful of his surroundings.

The dragon spluttered, “If that… if that is your arbitrary little wish I suppose I can submit to your demands. I want to remind you I am not some zoo animal to be petted however. I had forgotten how enamoured you humans are of my kind.”

“Yeah yeah.” Anduin dismissed, attempting to mask his delight as Wrathion bowed his head towards him. He had only briefly seen Wrathion’s dragon form and truthfully the urge to simply touch such a powerful little creature was undeniably there, but he supposed in this situation the intentions were rather different. 

The horn was thick and warm to the touch, smooth, and tapering at the end into a sharp little point. He fingered along the grooves, tracing its shape with gentle hands and letting his palm curve over from base to tip. Without much thought put into the action, he found his fingertips dancing lower to touch at the place where skin met bone, buried amongst a mess of thick hair. He raised his other hand to join the first and found himself wandering, ever so discreetly running hair through his fingers, catching at small dissenting strands feathering over his horn. 

Really, he should have left it there and carried on their evening without much discomfort between them, but whatever emotion had caught in his chest and whatever liquor was flowing made it so he could barely stop himself from instead slipping down and pushing his fingers through the dragon’s curls. The exhilaration of it caught in his throat and escaped him as a blissful sigh.

It was a sort of action one did on a complete whim, and the moment he began to rake his hands over Wrathion’s scalp he realised that this whimful action was a terribly awfully stupid one.

The shock on Wrathion’s face was evident, even while his reptilian eyes stared wide and unblinking it still took a rather unexplainable amount of time for him to pull his hands away. The sensation of it sent a remarkable thrill through his body, a stolen piece of intimacy all his to keep. 

Wrathion stared at him, and Anduin stared back. Wrathion continued to stare, and Anduin responded in kind. His face never did venture too far from the dragon’s, and he knew himself to be flushed and red, lips parted and breathing with heady glee. It occurred to him he had never been so close to the dragon’s face, tiny little details in his complexion fascinated him beyond compare and against his better judgment he found his eyes wandering down to Wrathion’s mouth, vaguely mulling over the fangs that likely hid in there.

The Black Prince’s facial expression was harder to read, but there seemed to be something on his mind, mouth slightly agape…

Then, the sight of dawning realisation blossomed like a radiant flower upon his face, punctuated with a slight of mirth. His eyes danced and flickered as if gathering up a million isolated pieces of thought and memory and compiling it all together, and the sudden rush of whatever conclusion he had arrived at showed with a widening smirk and raised eyebrows,

“You’re _attracted_ to me.” 

It was more a statement than a question, something equal parts shocked, fascinated, and amused and said with such finality it made Anduin jitter with the conviction of it, leaping away from the dragon with an almost instinctual jolt. 

It took the young prince a good while to process what was happening at that very moment, blinking at him in wild disbelief, and when he did eventually manage to react it left him as an ungraceful splutter, “No, NO, I AM NOT.”

The glee in Wrathion’s face only grew, and even through a haze of inebriation utter dread circulated through Anduin’s veins, “You _are!_ You’re attracted to me! Oh my, what a revelation!”

“NO!” Anduin yelled, voice far too high and response too animate, “I definitely am not!! I don’t even like you that way!! You think I’d be stupid enough to get involved with a black dragon!?”

Wrathion began to affix the scarf atop his head, tugging at the fabric with apathetic coolness, “I know! That’s what makes it all the more shocking!” 

If Anduin were in any other state, he felt he could easily diffuse the situation, but then he considered that if he were slightly more sober he wouldn’t have got himself in this situation in the first place. Admittedly he hadn’t really even drank that much to warrant such recklessness, was such a tiny slip in control all that was needed for him to do something like this? 

While he was still reeling from the shock, he couldn’t deny the ever brimming and growing inklings of pain that swam in his chest. He knew he was hurting over Wrathion considering this entire thing a joke, a laugh, something to be amused by and to criticise, and while he knew a large array of arguments were ready to leave his tongue to plead his innocence, they all but left him, simply melted away. 

He found he couldn’t give Wrathion one single response. Part of him questioned whether he actually thought Wrathion would feel the same way. 

Evidently the dragon didn’t. 

Somehow that made it hard to talk.

“I wouldn’t flatter yourself,” The voice that left him didn’t feel like his, “Don’t mistake fascination for attraction.”

Wrathion was playing absentmindedly with one of his Jihui pieces, flipping it through his fingers and tapping it against the table, “Is that not the same thing?”

Anduin grumbled, “No. It’s really not. You honestly think I would-”

“-you’d what? Dare disgrace yourself with the idea of being with one of my kind? Is that what you’re implying?” 

The tone in Wrathion’s voice suddenly seemed to flip to that of irritation, and Anduin could see his bodyguards share another one of their not-so-discreet glances. 

“That’s not what I meant at all! And why are you the one getting offended?! You’re the one who’s accusing me of all sorts of things!” He barked back. “And what do _you_ know of attraction, or love, or anything exactly?! Do you just like to latch onto anyone who is even remotely nice to you!?”

“HOW DARE-”

Pure anger flashed through the dragon with an outraged flourish, the Jihui piece clattering on the wood. It hadn’t been Anduin’s intention to say such hurtful feelings, but he found the words had simply slipped out, fueled by fear and upset and all manner of emotions that were utterly overwhelming. The consequences of said words were all too clear as Wrathion moved to leave the table, declining to grace Anduin with a single glance.

“I think it would be best to bring tonight to a close.” He said tritely, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The, “Goodnight.” that left his lips sounded utterly pitiful. As footsteps clattered away from him he stared at Wrathion’s now empty seat. 

What a mess.

Perhaps he should have retired from the table early after all.

He took a few minutes to breathe, before picking up each of the Jihui pieces individually and slotting them away with overly indulgent care. His hands lingered for far too long on the piece Wrathion had dropped. It was still warm.


End file.
